And That, Is the Key to Our Hearts
by lost-yet-found
Summary: The title won't make sense 'till later. Jus' sayin'. Oh, yeah, summary. Harry wakes up one day, not in his room but in anothers. But something is wrong and everything is turned upside down. And what's up with Malfoy...?


Hi! This is something that suddenly came to me in a package of inspiration, for I am waiting for a chapter from a friend, and apologize for the giving up of my other story: When We Were Once Young. But, I am keeping it up and am not surprised I did not continue it, seeing as it's hard to finish _anything_ lately. But, anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you all want any more, I am willing to keep at it!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that is Harry Potter. I may own this plot but not the characters I choose to use. So, hah.

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"Harry! Harry! Wake up mate!"

The voice rang through his head like high, whiney chimes of a bell tower out of tune and Harry Potter rolled over, comfortable within the bottle green bed sheets that wrapped themselves around him snugly.

"Harry, mate, don't make me do this." Harry didn't care, he willed the voice to do whatever it threatened, _he_ wouldn't move for anyone.

There was a sigh and the warm covers were gone and nothing left but the icy chill of the room.

Harry groaned, upset and terribly groggy. "Stop i'." He grumbled, cracking open an eye and flinching as blinding light filled it.

A laugh, high pitched and terribly familiar though in a way Harry was unsure, echoed throughout the room he was currently in. Allowing his eyes to open a bit more, Harry saw the blurry outline of a white haired boy, though it was a wonder if that white was actually the light that seemed to circle him, and Harry's muzzy mind began to process three things.

One, when he'd gone to bed he swore that he had been strictly in the Dursleys's home and cramped bedroom; two, he didn't remember anyone _ever_ forcing him to wake up as this person was obviously doing; and three, that voice sounded suspiciously like Draco Malfoy's.

Shooting up, Harry began to grope about for his glasses upon a table that seemed closer to the bed than before and much more smooth. Keeping these blind observations in mind, Harry slid his glasses upon his nose and was almost thrown to the floor in his shock and surprise.

There stood Draco Malfoy, dressed in flannel pajamas, hair styled as though he'd just awaken from a fitful sleep and devoid of the hair gel that was normally applied, and grinning from ear-to-ear as though a typical scowl had never graced his features.

"M-Malfoy?" was Harry's strangled cry as he jumped back against the headboard. Malfoy's grin faltered slightly, "'Malfoy'? You haven't called me that in years!" Now, _that_ made no sense at all. Had he _ever_ called the boy Draco face-to-face?

"W-What?" Harry blinked at him owlishly. It seemed that the both of them were confused and Harry chose to watch the other carefully.

Malfoy, too, watched Harry, albeit more with confusion than anything else. How long they sat, or stood, staring at each other was unknown, though I CAN say that it couldn't have been more the five past the hour when a loud screech came from below them. Harry was startled more than Malfoy, it seemed, for the unusually messy haired boy did not jump as Harry did when a snowy white owl blew in from the fireplace so suddenly that the ashes had no time to spread, they merely clung to the wings of the owl, to which Harry recognized as Hedwig, until she landed gracefully upon his bedside table and causing the ashes to fall in a chunk on the marble floor.

"There she goes again, scaring Mummy like that." Malfoy drawled, sounding uncannily like he normally did, and patting the owl on the head affectionately. She hooted, much to Harry's distress, and held out her left leg. Attached to it was, of course, a letter. Harry shook his head, trying to ignore Malfoy's questioning gaze, and scrambled to untie the it. Unfolding the parchment with oddly shaking hands, Harry recognized the quite spindly scrawl of Severus Snape, Potion's Master and Dumbledore's Murderer:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

This is where Harry stopped, confused. Slowly looking up, he realized that Hedwig, for some reason, must be quite off today and thought the letter was for _him_. Shrugging, Harry handed it to Malfoy and he took it, frowning slightly and shaking his head after a moment. "No, it's for you. You know he's the only one that calls you Mr. Malfoy."

Harry stared, flabbergasted and confused beyond anything he had ever been before. He turned to look back at the letter before deciding to read on:

_How has your summer been? I hope it's been pleasant and I apologize for not keeping up with my letters. I have been very busy with preparing upcoming lessons. And I suppose this is going to get you all in a twist because I still refuse to tell you what we're learning this year. Don't kill yourself over it, you will find out along with every other student and won't be steps ahead like you were last year, you and your bugging. _

_Say hello to Draco for me, tell your mother I send my greetings and tell your father to get his arse out of the bathroom because I refuse to keep apparating in there when he's trying to have a wank(please don't ask, for I refuse to give details. I do not wish your blackmail and teasing upon his fate)._

_Well, just letting you know I haven't fallen into my cauldron and died a miserably bubbly death. _

_Sincerely,_

**_Severus Snape_**

Harry stared at it, and stared at it, and stared at it until his vision began to blur and his eyes water. This made no sense, no sense at all. Here was a letter, written almost as if Sirius had replaced the most hated Potion's Master and become Head of Slytherin, and Harry was unsure to either scream or shred the letter and go back to sleep. He chose to keep staring.

"Harry, Harry! What's up with you today?" a voice, sounding slightly far away, reached his hearing and he watched the blurry letter disappear from his hands. The black haired boy looked up and found Malfoy staring at him as though he'd grown two heads.

"W-What's going on!" Harry cried, staring around at the room that was definitely not his own.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"You-me-this letter-what does it-what does it mean?" Harry stuttered out, waving his hands wildly.

"It means that Uncle Severus finally got to his letter writing quota?" Malfoy answered with a shrug.

Harry turned his attention back to the letter, which Malfoy still held, and reread the top line. "_Dear Mr. Malfoy_" and suddenly, something clicked in Harry's mind.

Why would Snape call him "Mr. Malfoy?" It had always been "Potter," so why…

"M-Malfoy," Harry croaked, looking up at the other boy's face finally, "w-what's my name?"

"What?" Malfoy asked, startled.

"Just answer the question!"

"You're name's Harry."

"My full name, Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay…" Malfoy said, holding his hands out in front of him and backing slightly away. After looking over Harry as if trying to figure out if the other boy had suddenly lost his mind or if he was just suffering from a bizarre case of amnesia, Malfoy finally chose to answer.

"You're name's Harry Aidan Malfoy. Why?"


End file.
